Defining Experiences
by halfwayhere
Summary: This is a cannon based Ronmione romance fanfiction from his perspective (mostly) that follows them from Malfoy Manor on through the end, with some potential for after HP&DH (no Cursed Child included). Apologies for any mistakes I may make with lingo (not being British) or with grammatical/spelling errors. Thanks and enjoy. :) -HalfwayHere


"No! Don't go-don't leave," she screamed, waking him at precisely twelve o'nine, after three hours of being comatose. Suppose it was a good sign, then, that she was responding to something. So naturally, he said the only thing he could think of, "I'm right here luv, and I'm not moving an inch. Not even if you bombard me with those infernal canaries of yours again."

The canaries had left a few shallow peck scars on his upper arms, but that was nothing compared to the damage she was going to have, even with Fleur's skilled healing work. Her arms and hands had been scarred, mirroring his own, he thought, looking down at her, trying to cocoon her with his body for warmth and support. He was surprised, after what he had done, that she would trust him to touch her, even when she was so far gone... and he wasn't sure if he would ever get her back.

If he ever found Malfoy, the pathetic piece of shite was going to hell the hard way for what he's done to his Hermione. He tried to think, even for a second, what she would do- what Harry would have done better in this situation, but neither of those thoughts helped. What time he could've had with her, while she was whole and sane (well mostly- living in the woods for that long with that wretched thing would've been long enough to drive even 'Mione out of her head), if he hadn't let his own head get to him. Bloody stupid, that was, and now he didn't know if he'd ever has her back.

She continued to spout gibberish for about a quarter of an hour, then she fell silent and still again. Fleur knocked and entered with more potions and salves to try and heal Hermione's wounds.

"Ron, have you tried to geet some rest for your seelf," Fleur queried quietly, with a soft, "Merde," as she simultaneously bandaged Hermione's left arm, and saw the _mudblood_ scar engraved there. "You do reealize zat zere is no way to remove zeesth," she continued.

"I know," he responded in a whisper, "but that doesn't take away from her for me, any more than Bill's do for you. If anybody understands, you do. Besides, if I know 'Mione, she'll wear it like a badge of honor."

Fleur was a bit shocked- Ron had seemed the softest of her Bill's brothers, always a bit verbally discombobulated and disoriented when she was in the room, but he seemed to overcome that, and it was surprising to see his ferocity.

She picked up her medical supplies and headed towards the door, briefly looking over her shoulder and saying firmly, "Good. Someday she vill need to be reminded of zat, and you had better be zere zat day."

Ron couldn't think that Hermione would need to be reminded of anything like that, given that she was so strong. Hermione? Break? Those words didn't belong in the same sentence, really, but if she needed him, he would be there. He would not fail her again, once was bad enough.

Four hours later, Hermione wasn't much better, to tell the truth, Ron still wasn't sure how she was inside- outside she was mending, but who knew what would happen when she woke up.

Fleur had been in with food, and more potions, and Ron had sat quietly, waiting for her to leave so that he could talk to Hermione.

"'Mione, don't you dare leave me. Harry and I won't bloody make it to the end of this without you. Remember when you lit Snape on fire- or when you both tricked me that I'd drank the _Felix_ _Felicitous_ before the Quidditch match? You even got pissed at me for being so down on you, and you sicked those canaries on me- even that was brilliant. Don't you dare go thinking that anybody else gets to do that to me, but if you come out of this, you can sick canaries on me every single day, if that will make you happy. Well, maybe not every day- that's a bit much- even for a stubborn git like me. Maybe once a week with the canaries, eh?"

It was odd to be talking to someone who wouldn't respond to him, but he was hoping that reminding her of everything that they'd been through would make her mind stronger. It also distracted him, though he did wish that he could conjure up some tea. Heh. "You know, I was just thinkin' bout a cup of tea, but then I remembered that according to you and Gamp's law, I can't just make one out of thin air. It's another of those times that you'd remind me that I shouldn't use magic for everything. See? I'd be a bloody starving mess without you, trying to get food out of nothing at all."

During the hours that he'd talked, there were pauses where he's just hold her and try to keep her frigid skin warm, hoping that his body heat would raise her temperature, that he could at least keep her comfortable. The last thing that he wanted was to lose her, even if her body healed- her mind might not, he knew that after seeing Neville's parents. It was still difficult now to even think of what they had been through, and what could have happened to Luna and Griphook and Olivander before they had gotten there- or what had happened to Dobby.

She began to move and moan again, thrashing, and then sitting up, gasping briefly, before going still. He only gulped and hoped it was a good sign, knowing that she could run from hot to cold when her wound burned and her body strove to fight off the infection. He was tempted to cast a cheering charm on himself, if only to cast off the despondent mood that had taken hold of him, as he ran his hands down her hair, trying to sort out each wee bit, each curl from the mass. Fleur had washed it, but it needed sorting so as not to overwhelm her.

"There's about a million times I can think of when you were brilliant, and saved Harry and me's backsides, but people don't think that you're funny when you are. Like that time you punched Malfoy in the face. That was a bit of beauty, once we all got over the shock. I ought to have told you that day, at the Yule Ball, when nobody recognized you for half a minute, that I was such a miserable git because I was jealous of Krum. I also thought it was odd that your hair was so slicked down, everyone else wondered why you didn't do it more often. It felt more like to me, that you had taken the life out of it. That's what this is- all of this," he said, running his hands though the curling bouncing strands, "it's lively- it's like you keep your secrets in here, your knowledge and your humor. Never know which direction it's going to go neither, remember that day that you walked to charms and it was mostly straight up in the air?"

That's the hardest part- knowing if the rest of her was going to be as lively and shocking as the rest of her had always been. It is almost impossible to anticipate any other changes to Hermione. She was beautiful, even if everybody else just saw her brains, there was far more there.

He continued struggling to warm her, to look for signs of life. Any sign of life at this point that wasn't the aftermath of the spell would be a blessing. At this point, even getting one last look from her, where her eyes sparked with heat and sweetness, would be enough for the rest of his life. That was all he wanted- that and to hear his name once again, just once, but he was asking for too much from her.


End file.
